


The Best Robin Origin Story Ever Told

by chibi_nightowl



Series: Therapy Sessions [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Therapy in a bottle, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Tim makes a face at the bottle while Jason pours the shots. “I feel like it wasn’t all that long ago I took one of these away from you.”“That was two months ago, Timmy. I haven’t had any since,” Jason says defensively. “Besides, I thought this was supposed to be therapy night?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I made this a series. Crap. Probably would be a good idea to read OMG GFY first, but can be read alone if you really want to.

Dick privately thinks they’d picked a good night to kick back and relax. The weather is absolutely wild tonight, with harsh winds and rain lashing Gotham like Judgment Day is upon them (he’d been through that actually, back when Hal Jordan became the Specter; not fun). He’d made it to Tim’s renovated theater apartment just before the worst of the storm hit, a six-pack and two large pizzas in hand.

Jason brings the whiskey, this time a bottle of Jameson’s. It didn’t look like one of the cheaper bottles either. In his defense, he also brought chips and had spent a good half an hour in Tim’s kitchen making different dips before Tim put their movie in. Dick is certain it wouldn’t be long before Jason just up and moves in with Tim permanently. He hopes it’s soon; he’s got money on it.

The last week has been a rough one, so the opportunity to have a night off, even if it’s only due to the weather, is welcome. The pizza is demolished before their movie is even half way through.

By the time the movie is over though, the beer is long gone and they’d moved on to Jason’s whiskey.

Tim makes a face at the bottle while Jason pours the shots. “I feel like it hasn't been all that long since I took one of these away from you.”

“That was two months ago, Timmy. I haven’t had any since,” Jason says defensively. “Besides, I thought this was supposed to be therapy night?”

Dick chuckles quietly. He’s sprawled on the sofa, taking up as much space as he can and is completely relaxed with his feet in Tim’s lap. “It is, but I don’t think any of us feel like cleaning up after anyone.”

“I thought that’s how we show we care?” Jason smirks as he hands out the shot glasses. “Bloody noses, stitching up cuts, digging out bullets, wrapping broken ribs? Sound familiar?”

“At least none of those reek like someone’s vomit,” Tim comments as he accepts his shot.

“Fuck you, Replacement. You had food poisoning last month, who was keeping your pretty hair outta your face while you worshipped the porcelain god?”

“You. And I consider it a small drop in the bucket of hangovers you have to pay me back for,” Tim replies, not even missing a beat.

Dick raises an eyebrow at that and casts his gaze on Jason. “Do you really get drunk that often?”

“Shut your face, Dickie. I got my demons. My demons have demons. And a night in the bottle is infinitely preferable than me exorcising the biggest demon of all by marching into Arkham, guns blazing.” Jason glares fiercely, but Dick suddenly understands better than he did before.

“Sorry, Little Wing,” he says. “I didn’t think that one through.”

“There’s an argument that could be made about you thinking at all, but for once, I’ll be the bigger man and keep my mouth shut,” Jason retorts and slams his whiskey back.

“You are the bigger man,” Tim teases as he sips at his whiskey. “I think you’ve easily got 30 pounds on Dick, not to mention a few inches.”

“Someone grew into those big feet of his!” Dick chimes in with a grin. “Man, I remember hearing Alfred comment how often he had to get new shoes for you when you were growing up.”

“Three square meals a day and almost all the snacks I could eat in between helped,” Jason replies quietly. For a moment, there’s a sad look on his face that’s quickly shunted away as he pours another shot.

Dick sits up and drinks his shot, the whiskey burning a trail down his throat and into his stomach. The warmth shocks him for a moment and he can’t help the cough as he tries to catch his breath.

Jason grins at him, all sharp edges and teeth. “Have a problem holding your whiskey, Dickieboy?”

“No,” Dick replies with a sharp, rising to the challenge. “So, therapy night?”

Tim surprises them both by finishing his shot and handing his glass back to Jason. “If we’re doing this, I need more alcohol first. There are some things I _need_ the liquid courage for.”

“Amen to that,” Jason says emphatically as he pours the shot. “Shoulda bought a second bottle.”

*****

The bottle is almost gone by the time anyone’s tongues are loose enough to start talking.

Dick goes first. “I don’t know why you think Bruce and I have a perfect relationship, Jay. You’ve got to remember why I was never around when you became Robin. Bruce and I fought so much and for so long,” he says with a shake of his head. “I needed to get away. I was also 18 and stupidly in love with Kori. The Titans were exactly what I needed at the time. They became my family and gave me the support to become more than just Robin, Batman’s sidekick. I don’t think I ever could have become Nightwing without them.”

“Yeah, well, you certainly didn’t make it easy for me,” Jason retorts, his voice heavy with anger. “All Bruce did was compare me to you. Do you have any idea how hard it was to fill those pixie boots of yours?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to fill yours?” Tim asks quietly, his blue eyes heavy with sadness. “I became Robin because Batman needed one. He was destroying himself after you died, Jay. If someone hadn’t stepped in, there wouldn’t have been a Batman for you to come back to.”

Jason sneers, his anger and disbelief over those events still close to the surface, even after all these years. “All he needed to do was one thing. _One thing_.”

“And we get that, Jason.” Dick’s voice takes on a hard tone. “Do you know how I found out about your death?” he asks, diverting the topic back to the original point. “I was off-world at the time. Not sure if you knew that. I was barely back five minutes before I found out, but it wasn't from Bruce. He never called me about it. When I went back to the Cave to talk to him, it had been almost a month already. He blamed _me_ for your death. Because I gave you the Robin suit. We argued, he hit me, and kicked me out of the Cave. It wasn’t until Tim came to New York looking for me that I went back.”

A look of horror appears on Jason’s face and he stands, hands clenched in tight fists. “No. No fucking way. He did _not_ blame you!”

“He did,” Dick replies quietly, head down as he remembers that horrible night. The guilt still sits heavy with him, just like Bruce no doubt intended it to.

“Fucking hell, how does that even make sense!?” Jason shouts as he starts pacing around the living room.

Tim wisely keeps his mouth shuts as he watches the two of them.

“He was mourning.” Dick runs a hand through his black hair and sighs. “He was exhausted, I could see it. Pushing himself to the limit and beyond. Punishing himself because that’s all he knows how to do. He lashed out because I was a convenient target.” He shakes his head sardonically. “I know this now, of course. Hindsight and all that crap. At the time, I was livid and if I hadn’t been already been injured, I would have picked at fight with him.”

“And lost horribly.” Jason stops pacing to stare at Dick, his own oddly teal eyes gleaming with something Dick can’t quite make out. “Dick, I never blamed you. Not once. Just as I never blamed _him_. I died because of my own stupid mistakes, no one else’s.”

It’s hard, but Dick resists the urge to get up and hug his brother. Instead, he lets Tim do it for him. Tim stands and crosses the room to wrap Jason in a tight hug. The easy affection between the two of them warms his heart, especially as he remembers the extremely hard fought battle to reach this point.

“I don’t think any of us have ever had an easy time as Robin, let alone being a son of Bruce Wayne,” Tim comments with a thoughtful expression on his face as he lets go of Jason, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist to lead them back to the sofa. Jason bypasses it to sit back down in his armchair.

Dick can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes and in the chair next to him, Jason does the same. “If anything Tim, I think you’ve had it the easiest, least in terms of your relationship with him,” he says with an assessing look at the taller man, seeking agreement.

Jason nods. “Batman needs a Robin aside, I think your lowest point was when Dick took Robin from you, am I right?”

Ouch, Dick isn’t expecting that blow and grimaces.

“Therapy night,” Jason reminds him pointedly.

Tim nods his head in agreement and stares down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. “Yeah, that was pretty rough. I’d lost so much in the last year…my dad, Stephanie, Kon and Bart. Bruce. When Dick made Damian Robin, I lost it. I won’t lie, I did. I get why you did it too. But Dick,” Tim raises his bright blue eyes to Dick’s icy blue ones and Dick can’t help but suppress a shudder, the intense emotion in Tim’s eyes over the event still strong even with the years in between. “Sometimes I still want to beat the _shit_ out of you for doing it.”

Jason laughs, loud and harsh. “Get it out, Timmy. That’s what tonight’s all about.”

“I know,” Dick replies, ignoring Jason as he focuses on his younger brother. “And I’m still sorry I didn’t believe you about Bruce.”

Tim stands abruptly. “This sucks. I think we’ve made enough progress for the night, what do you guys think?”

A chorus of agreements echo through the air.

“I’ve got a bottle of vodka around here somewhere from my last trip to Russia,” Tim says and he leaves the room.

Jason shakes his head and shares a concerned glance with Dick. “I didn’t think this would bother him so much. He was all for it earlier…”

“He lost so many people he cared about in such a short period of time,” Dick replies. “It was so rough on him. I wasn’t there to help; I was going through my own crisis after letting Tarantula kill Blockbuster. Even with all the crap he put me through, I still couldn’t do it. I let her do it instead. I didn’t stop her.” Unspoken went what else happened to him that night. Of all the people he knows, Jason would get it, would _understand_. But he’s not ready to go that far. Not yet.

“I heard about Haly’s. I had just arrived in Gotham and was getting the lay of the land again. I know its years too late, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry about it.”

“Thanks, Little Wing,” Dick reaches over and pats Jason on his denim-clad knee. He’s aching for a hug, for some form of physical comfort, so Jason clasping his hand briefly shocks the daylights out of him.

Tim returns with a large bottle covered in an indecipherable script on the label. Dick knows quite a few languages at this point in his life, but his Russian is definitely the weakest of them all. Spoken only and even that was a smattering, enough to get by. “I know it’s not a good idea to mix alcohols, but we’ve got enough food and water here still that we shouldn’t be _too_ miserable in the morning,” Tim says as he sits back down next to Dick, placing the bottle on the table in front of them.

“Whatever. So what else are we getting off our chests?” Jason leans over to pick up the bottle and give it a once over.

“Let’s make it a bit lighter,” Dick suggests. “How about your best damsel in distress story?”

His brothers laugh and soon the room fills with the sounds of shouts and laughter as stories of their best (and most embarrassing) moments in a mask come to light. Dick’s sides hurt, he’s been laughing so hard. When he made his suggestion, he honestly thought he’d have to carry the weight to keep things going, but no, Tim and Jason are just as enthusiastic as him.

“Okay,” Dick huffs after Tim finishes telling a story about him, Bart, and Kon from their Young Justice days. “How about this one? What is the ballsiest thing you’ve ever done?”

Tim looks thoughtful, but Jason grins widely. “I don’t care what y’all come up with, I’ve got you beat.”

“Dying and coming back to life shouldn’t count.” Tim gives a stern look at his boyfriend.

“Nope, that wasn’t what I’m thinkin’ of.” Jason’s street accent has gotten thicker the further along into the vodka they’ve gotten.

“Okay, then what is it?” Dick asks, leaning back and stretching. He feels his back pop and collapses against the sofa, content and pleasantly buzzed. He’s been sipping just enough water to keep from getting thoroughly trashed, but he already knows there’s no way he’s going back to his apartment tonight. Tim’s already offered him a guest room to crash in.

Tim eyes Jason warily, but doesn’t say anything, just arching an eyebrow and waits for Jason to get on with it.

“This counts as the ballsiest thing any of us has ever done because I did it before I was even Robin. I stole the tires off the fucking Batmobile. And before any of you morons say anything, yes, I knew exactly whose car it was. I even told him to his face that this is what happens when you park in Crime Alley.” Jason looks so smugly proud of himself that Dick can’t help but laugh.

“Oh man, I read about this in your file.” Dick says. “Come on, full story, Little Wing, please?”

“Yes!” Tim agrees, practically bouncing in excitement. “Please, Jay!”

So Jason tells the story of how he carjacked the tires off the Batmobile on the night of anniversary of the infamous Wayne murders. Everyone in Crime Alley knew that Batman only made an appearance there once a year. He’d caught sight of the car and couldn’t resist the chance, managing to get three tires off before Batman caught him. He told them about how he hit Bruce with his tire iron and ran off. Of course, he’d been found quickly, as were the missing tires.

“When I was done puttin' ‘em back on, Bruce took me to Ma Gunn’s School for Boys, thinkin’ that’d be a safe place for me. That sure turned out to be a bad decision. They thought I was a stoolie for Batman.” Jason shakes his head wryly at the memory. “God, sometimes I wonder what the fuck I was thinkin’, stealin' those tires.” He laughs bitterly as he looks at Dick and Tim. “No use cryin’ over spilled milk, huh?”

This time, Dick gets up and flops down in Jason’s lap before the bigger man can stop him, wrapping him tightly in his arms. “I’m glad you did, Jason. I didn’t at first, but when I gave you that Robin uniform, I knew you would fly.”

Jason chokes and buries his face in Dick’s neck, clinging just as tightly to his older brother. He doesn’t say anything, but Dick can feel the warm damp from his tears.

They’re not healed, but they’re not broken anymore either. Even the hangover each of them quietly nurses in the morning isn’t enough to dissuade them from agreeing this had been a good idea.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I re-read Dick's reaction to Jason's death in New Titans and wow, did Bruce really take it out on him. 80s art aside, those were some pretty powerful panels.


End file.
